Pamela's Vengeance: A Poisonous Pursuit 2
by GronHatchat
Summary: This is a sequel to my Batman and Robin Ivy based story, "Pamela Isley: A Poisonous Pursuit." An obsessed maniac who idolized Poison Ivy had vowed to continue her work of destroying the human race, and she is more of a threat and far more out of control than Pamela was. She had taken on the name of Poison Ivy for herself, and is leaving a string of gruesome murders in honor of Ivy.


When the knock on the door came at three in the morning, Charles Matthews could never have guessed that answering it would be the worst mistake of his life. Now he had answered many doors in his time. Packages came in the mail frequently for him, for he was an avid sword collector, and purchased many fine blades from many cultures around the world. Friends would visit all the time. He was a very popular guy, a real computer wizard when it came to the world of hacking and writing viruses. He planned on joining the Pentagon someday. Doors were a small matter. Doors were…innocent. Even at three in the morning, the knock on the door did not put the suddenly awakened Charlie into shock. After all, he had been visited before at this hour. Actually, lately, more so than usual. At least fifteen times in the last seven months had he been awaken in the dead of night by a police officer. It was always a different patrolman or patrolwoman, but they were always asking the same question: _Do you know anything relating to the murders that took place in this neighborhood?_ The murders in this general area had been strange. Eight cases, in fact. All poisonings, too. Men and women and children found dead with organic poisoning, toxins most foul polluting their veins. He had even known a couple of them. Persia Thompson and her husband Max had been family friends for years, and had even attended his college graduation as participants to the family row.

The poisonings had always made him on edge, of course. Over a year ago, a terrorist had been imprisoned at a psychiatric institution up north in Gotham. A woman calling herself "Poison Ivy." Now, the stories had been all over Bludhaven's news. **Estimated death toll connected to Pamela "Poison Ivy" Isley surpass fifty… Terrorist "Poison Ivy" sentenced to seventeen consecutive life-terms… Families across Gotham help construct monument in fallen victims of "Poison Ivy"… **The gorgeous redheaded woman would often fill the screen during these reports. Pictures from a ball she had attended, from her arrest, from her trial… A plant-obsessed maniac, she had indeed murdered countless souls… Charlie was beyond happy to know that such a monster was behind bars forever. No matter how good she looked, she deserved death like no other. But now….

_But now there are poisonings going on here!_ he remembered thinking. Gotham investigators had actually driven down to Bludhaven after the third victim was found. Indeed, it had seemed almost _identical_ to the Poison Ivy murders in Gotham. According to the news, the poison found within the victims' bodies was not hemotoxin, as had been the case with Isley, but rather arsenic. The strange thing was that the poison had been ingested in a variety of different ways: sometimes orally, sometimes via injection, obviously by syringe, according to official reports. Heavy trauma to the head was also a common pattern, which suggested the killer would beat down the victim before poisoning them to death. Charlie had been awoken so many nights from police banging on peoples' doors, the sirens of the police cars… and then, probably the greatest wake-up of all had been the roaring of the engines. The entire neighborhood had gotten out for that one. The roaring engines of fire and powerful technology, belonging to that of a great black jet. And out of the jet had come the legend himself. Batman, the protector of Gotham whose face was completely unknown, had come to Bludhaven to investigate these murders, tipped off of a possible connection to Isley. Charlie could still remember to this day the Dark Knight. Tall, menacing, shrouded in black and dressed like a giant bat. Insane….but empowering. He had stayed in the neighborhood a whole of half an hour before leaping into his advanced jet and shooting away into the night. Apparently, he had failed to really do anything. The murders continued.

_Damn… if even Batman can't handle it… but he caught Ivy! Surely he can help us Bludhavenites out with this! _But maybe Gotham just mattered more to the Dark Knight. So much so that Bludhaven had to deal with its own problems. Panic in the streets continued. Children were not allowed to play outside. No one exercised anymore. Even with increased patrols, somehow, the murders would still continue. This dreary little neighborhood of Yeazii suburb was going to go straight to Hell…

So with all this, it came as no surprise when the knock on the door shook him out of his slumber upon the couch. The house was dark, and cold. His heart broke at once. _Another one… damn it, another one…. I'm getting the hell out of this neighborhood the first chance I get! _He begrudgingly jumped up from the couch and made his way sleepily towards the kitchen, where the door was. At this time of the morning, his vision lacked for the worse (had had not bothered to grab his glasses), and his head pounded fiercely. The tea before bed had done little to help him with his headaches. He had been watching his girlfriend's daughter for the majority of the past day, and the little tyke had been quite a handful. Still, the kid was growing on him. She was a hyper pain… but she still _his_ future hyper pain. She would be his introduction to fatherhood, once he and Shannon married. He glanced up briefly as he passed Shannon's picture in the kitchen hall, a wonderful scene as she held little Anna in her arms in a grass meadow.

He reached the door. Sure enough, through the thin silk curtain, he could see the flashing red and blue lights. _Damn it… will this never end!_ Trying not to imagine who had been murdered this time, he pulled the door open. Pulled it open to his death.

The moment the door swung back, something else swung forward. The hammer cracked hard against his cranium and he fell into a heap upon the floor. His scream was lost as daziness and blackness blinded him. Sounds vibrated throughout the air. His world shattered into thousands of pieces. Everything in his head seemed to melt into mush, and the floor suddenly seemed so much colder.

"Oops…" The voice came from a thousand miles away. It was at the end of the longest tunnel on Earth, vibrating with echoes through the dark sludge of sewer that polluted his ears. He stared with wide, blind eyes at the floor, the pain so intense. He was incapacitated, and his brain had not shut him out of it yet. _Trick trick trick _fell his blood upon the floor. "Sorry! I didn't mean to hit you so hard! I hope you're not dead." The voice belonged to a young woman, and it rose and feel with each word, as if she were quickly moving across the room, away from the door with its deceptive flashing lights. He heard a door slam, somewhere in the world. He felt hands on his feet. Felt himself being drug across the floor… and a soft _click_. The kitchen light being turned off. Slowly, his vision began to bring the light back. Dimly did sight return to him, but the pain did not go away. He could almost scream…

Whoever was dragging him stopped and left him lying there, face-down against the dirty tile. Footsteps.

"This your girl? She's ugly. I don't like her… I don't like her all. Stupid mammal…worthless mammal…" Shattering glass. He actually felt the pieces rain down upon the back of his neck. Snowflakes of torment, raindrops of death. A ripping sound. A picture being ripped in two….being ripped in fours…being shredded to tens… They snowed down upon him too. The woman, whoever she was, giggled. "Much better. I should be on that wall, Charlie. I should be on that wall… How dare you put _Shannon _all over your nice wood…"

She was dragging him again. His vision was becoming clearer and clearer. The world was returning to him. He could make out individual colors. Could define shapes for what they were. The woman had now drug him into the carpeted living room.

"Nice pants… nice shirt, too, what's that…. Oh, it's Beatles… I don't like the Beatles. They're too…old-fashioned, is that word…? I don't know… who does, though, right? I mean, you probably would know all about old-fashioned, I mean….look at _Shannon_…"

His vision returned in full. Amplified was the pain in his throbbing head. He looked about, dazed and weak. Someone was sitting on his squashy armchair. The first thing he saw a bare foot, the nails of the toes painted two different colors; one foot was dark green, the other scarlet. He weakly craned his neck. Blood fell down his face as he did. Tight green pants, like something a ballerina wore. The stopped a few inches above her ankles. Thin in weight. Gloved hands, rubbery and dark green, but each fingertip painted crimson. The woman wore a very tight, constricting, forest green shirt, its sleeves long. And then he saw her face…

She had painted her lips pale green. Did they even sell a lipstick like that locally? Around her green eyes she wore small, circular décor that bore pointed ends, like leaves. Her hair was vibrant red, though he could tell it was a dye job: flecks of blonde poked through here and there. This woman was blonde, naturally. She raised one gloved hand, kissing the air in his general direction.

"Hi there," she said in a soft voice, smiling with pursed lips.

Charlie's heart shattered again. He had seen this before, plastered all over the news… _Oh my God… please, no… no…. not another one… not me!_ He tried to open his mouth, but could not draw in the strength. The blow to his head had done him something fierce. She giggled.

"No need to try to talk, lover." Her voice sounded almost like a passionate sigh. She opened her mouth wide with each word, showing pearly white teeth. He saw her now fingering something resting on her lap. A vibrant green bag, medium-sized for carry convenience. She began to fiddle around inside of it. "I don't need your words… only your adoration."

He saw what she pulled out of the bag. A large syringe… and a two vials. In one vial was a pile of white powdery substance, with a small label that read **Ketamine**. In the other vial, a murky, dark green liquid swirled about. The woman eyed the green vial for a long second, a distant expression upon her face, and then her tongue came out full as she licked at the glass. She followed it with a strange, almost sexual moaning.

"That's dessert," she told him, noticing him looking. "This," she continued, holding up the Ketamine, "is dinner." She shook the bottle enthusiastically. "It's a special little date-rape drug. But you might know that already, I'm not sure." She uncorked the vial of Ketamine and fell onto the floor, crawling towards him. He tried to summon the strength to move, adrenaline kicking in at once, but she reached him before he could do anything. Her fist came down against his forehead and he was dazed, disoriented and agonized as pain overtook him. This time, he did scream, as loudly as he could, the fire of it and the desperation to get help too much for him. Unfortunately, screaming proved his undoing. The Ketamine went down his throat as she tipped the vial over, and as he began to choke on it, she forced her gloved hand down upon his mouth, holding it shut. It tasted bitter on his tongue, and seemed to bubble like some sort of acidic horror. At once his muscles seized up. He felt numbness spread down his gums and into his throat. His eyes widened in horror as heat overcame him, and he struggled for breath. Everything part of his nervous system was shocked, and seemed to be shutting down.

She sighed with joy, looking beyond content, and tossed the empty vial aside. She gently rolled him over, onto his back, and climbed atop him, sitting cow-girl style and pressing her gloves firmly against his chest. Her face was distant in expression. Askew, and vacant. Her sight was a million miles away, her lips slightly parted.

"Allow me to introduce myself, love… My name….is Poison Ivy." She grinned, throwing her arms out above her head. His vision was going blurry. All about him, the air was vibrating. He began to hear distant sounds that came from nowhere and yet everywhere. Were they screams? Were they cries? Everything was disoriented. "I am the true Poison Ivy," she continued. "Poison Ivy full realized. I have Ascended in place of the goddess. Abigail Robinson… they used to call me that. The mammals still do… and I kill them when they do… because I'm not Abigail Robinson… you know that, right?" She looked at him pleadingly, looking distressed that he may dare accuse her of being Abigail Robinson. His mouth hung open, drool falling out. He was a million miles away. She sighed, frustrated. "You too… always, they all…just… ugh!" She slapped him. He did not react, even when the red mark began to form on his left cheek. "None of you ever listen! None of you ever care, do you!? I _chose_ you, Charlie, baby. I _chose_ you. Watched you for months! Wondered what kind of guy you _really_ were… she would come over, too. I saw her all the time, her and the little shit…" She bowed her head, looking heartbroken. "But… I never gave up on you. Never. For months I watched you… because I loved you… I _do_ love you!" She quickly hissed this, as if fearful he would doubt it. The vegetable remained still. She pressed her gloved fingers against his lips. "Oh, shush, now, it's okay… Ivy's here; your Poison Ivy will not abandon you."

She kissed him lightly on the lips. "I love you," she whispered, fiddling with the button on his pajama pants. "I really love you… watched you for months…" She looked about the room, her eyes dazed as much as his were, the most dreamy, distant expression highlighting her features. "Stood in the garden. Stood on the backporch, staring through the window…. Wondering when I would summon the courage to tell you the truth. That's why I left all those presents. The cat I disemboweled… you didn't realize it meant I would _kill_ for you!?" She seethed with rage, hating the traitor. He did not care about her…must not care at all… "The message was _clear_! Or the beheaded dog!? You threw its body away…. as if it meant nothing! It symbolized the fact that I would cut the heads off anyone who dared to come near you. You're so…perfect." She had given his _thing_ its air, and was cupping it in her heads, stroking it with two fingers. She was Poison Ivy… it was her calling to make things grow… "Why did you toss that box of chocolates in the trash? I bought them for you! I had a few, but that didn't mean they were spoiled!" She jerked viciously at _it_. Wanted to tear it off and shove it down his throat. Might do it… might do it… It was getting so _big_ now. It was growing. And why should it not!? She was Mother Nature! She was Poison Ivy! Had to make it grow! Had to, had to! The hammer lay on the floor at her side. She could take it now and bash his brains in…needed to…wanted to…

When his _thing_ was to her liking in size and strength, she began the rape slowly. Her tights were easy to pull off, and she quickly did so, leaving her bottom half naked and bare. She tossed the tights over his face, obscuring it from view. This was of contentment. The blonde vulva hairs that did not match the hair on her head glistened under the ceiling fan light, calling out to her next victim. _Feed us_… She fed them, forcing it into her as she sat back down on top of him. She closed her eyes, immense satisfaction overcoming her body and mind. Finally, after all these months… months of planning the right time. The other murders had merely been her secret messages to you, letting her know that she was coming. She, his lover. She, who loved him most. She, who had met him under a different name. Shannon had been what she had chosen. Her blonde hair, the hair of the past, had suited well to the identity. The young daughter? Young Anna once belonged to a couple who lived in the Deatson neighborhood of Bludhaven… she'd had now been missing for a year. Not that her parents minded. The police had found their mutilated bodies. The child was believed to be dead. "Shannon", of course, had had to doctor the little girl up. A dye job, a forced contact lens pair, until the easily swayed kidnap victim resembled the blonde, beautiful "Shannon" to a T. The little girl was young and stupid. She had been easy to manipulate, and trick into thinking that "Mommy had changed her look and Daddy had gone a long vacation to Candyland." When "Shannon" had met Charlie at the fitness center, love had blossomed at first meeting. She found herself unable to stop thinking about him, and how kind he had been. How he had _smiled_ at her. _Her_, goddess of the Earth. When she had met Charlie, she had decided to stop living in her car. She had needed a home for Charlie to visit. A murder later and a nice old couple in Charlie's neighborhood had been "vacated." She and an ignorant Anna had eaten the "evidence."

"Shannon" and Charlie had hit it off fast, their relationship growing rather quickly. There was just something so…irresistible to Charlie about "Shannon…" She almost seemed to be able to take control of your senses, of your mind… And so it had come as a great shock that their engagement had been announced only three weeks into dating. Charlie loved Shannon… Charlie was obsessed with Shannon…

And now, Shannon had finally chosen the moment to act on her heart's desire, to express her full love to Charlie. To claim his body, and make it hers. She wanted it this way, needed it this way. Needed to dominate…to hurt him… Anna was no longer a concern. She had stabbed the girl to death in the car. Even now, her body lay there in the backseat, waiting for Mommy to finish business with Daddy. After months of waiting, the child's murder had been utter joy for "Shannon." After tonight, she would move on… she would look for new love. She would leave Charlie in his home. She would dispose of Anna's body… well, Anna and the policeman she had murdered in order to obtain his car. She had quite a way over men… she was quite poisonous, one could say.

"Shannon's dead," the woman truly named Abigail Robinson sighed, thrusting against him in her savage rape. She threw her tights from his face and kissed him passionately, moaning loudly, thrusting more and more savagely. He was powerless. He was defenseless. He was hers. She was goddess over him, and he had no prayer, no hope, no chance! For minutes and minutes, the heavily sedated Charlie could only come the tiniest shred near to comprehending his dire situation. It was only when she dug her fingers into his eye sockets that he could fathom the concept of pain. Torment was the word, and his suffering was beyond measure. As she raped him, she took from him his eyes, rolling them across the living room floor with her bloodstained gloves. She could only imagine the electrical-like agony it put him through. It was everything she had imagined for months concerning this special moment with the man she loved. She had planned every detail of the consummation of their feelings for each other. First his skull. Then his eyes. Last his life.

"I love you, Charlie," she whispered, licking his cheeks, her eyes closed to intense sexual satisfaction as she came to a climax, biting her green lips to the point where she drew blood. She had to sign her name! Must sign her name! Holding one gloved hand up, she clicked her right wrist upward. A small, silver blade shot out of the hidden mechanism in the glove. She laughed madly at the sight of it, feeling nothing but love and desire for Charlie as she began to carve her nine letter name into his chest, cutting deep with each one: **POISON IVY**. Several satisfying, arousing moments flew by as he bled with each letter, to be forever marked with the name of the woman who cared so much for him… who needed him more badly than any other human! Than any _mammal_ could ever need. She did not _hate_ mammals. Indeed, she loved them. She would not make the same mistakes that the original goddess had made… no, no… no, she _knew_ that mammals were needed. Now she knew. When she had first set out on her quest of ascension, she had been ignorant, and thought it silly that mammals could even dare to draw breath. Now, after an entire year of killing, an entire year of making art decorating the planet with bodies, she knew that mammals were the key to her pleasures, to her very wishes. Without mammals, she was no goddess because she had no one to rule over. Plants were goddesses and gods as well, and she could not rule over a god or goddess. It was the mammals that were needed as servants.

"There we go," she whispered, finishing her carving and setting the blade back into its hidden nook. She finally took rest, breathing so hard, powerfully overcome with emotion and joy. She had finally done it. She had finally had him. She licked the blood that flowed from his cuts. _His_ blood! The blood of the man she loved! She hugged with genuine love, with genuine adoration. "Thank you so much… I love you, Charlie…"

And now, without removing his thing from her body, she took the vial of green substance. He must pass from this life now. She must destroy the fixation, severe her ties to the man so that she could find love again, and repeat the ritual. Charlie at this point was losing consciousness. He was barely hanging on. Anna's face kept running through his mind, as did Shannon's… how he longed for them both. How he needed them both! Could he shed tears? Could he show any kind of emotion?

She never gave him the chance. She poured the whole vial down his throat, and watched with a grueling satisfaction as the deadly poison claimed his life. The hemotoxin she only reserved for the _truly_ worthy. It was arsenic for most of the rest. The hemotoxin was special. It came from the _original_ goddess! One of her first quests during her journey of Ascension had been a pilgrimage to Gotham City. Finding obituaries from previous issues of the _Gotham Gazette_ had been easy. Local libraries stockpiled them annually. Finding the graveyards had not been all that difficult. Neither had digging up the bodies in the dead of night. Victims of the original goddess… victims of the original Poison Ivy. The hemotoxin, the very venom from her lips, had still coursed through their decaying veins! Luckily, Abigail Robinson had brought her syringes with her. A few samples had been enough. For good measure, she had stolen one of the more heavily poisoned victims, a man who was beyond human recognition, and kept him for good measure, preserving him so that she may harvest more. Getting the poison to a lab to be synthesized and replicated had also been easy. She had contacts at the Bludhaven Sciences Institution, where she had originally gone to school, and these contacts were easily seduced into allowing her access to the chemistry labs. Pheromones did wonders, as had the studies Abigail had put into her daily schedule to theorize just how Isley had extracted the plant particles needed to produce to vaporized pheromones… It had taken months to set it altogether!

The poison she had stockpiled for well over a year, replicating day in and day out, belonged in Charlie's veins! In this way, Abigail and Mother Nature could be one of the same entity. She had promised the goddess that she would continue her work… even if Abigail had realized how wrong the goddess had been about mammals. This costume, this hair dye, everything about her was there to honor the goddess. And one of these days, she was going to pay the goddess a visit. She was locked away in that terrible place, that monstrous Arkham… she belonged out here, with Abigail. Together, they could destroy so many lives, and Abigail could teach her the truth about mammals. How to free Mother Nature? How to free her?

Charlie made only the faintest guttural sounds but died quickly, his veins turning green and putrid. Abigail climaxed only one more time, aroused by his dying in the middle of intercourse, and she planted one last kiss upon his dead lips, closing them when she was finished.

"Good-bye, my love," she whispered to him, taking her wristblade out for one last moment and severing a long strand of hair from his head. She fondled the hair under her nose as she stood up, and proceeded to dress her lower half once more. It felt good to be back in full costume once more. Back into Poison Ivy. She had freed him. Freed him, freed him, freed him, yes, yes she had, she had she had she had she had… over and over again, it the same words: _I have I have I have I have_… She was rubbing her hands together over and over, seemingly unaware of doing so, as if wiping years of blood away. Blood that could not be seen. Just like Lady Macbeth. She clasped her gloved hands together, drawing in her face like a frog as she bowed her head and placed her chin against her chest, staring forward blankly. She wanted to kill again already. Three in one night…could there be a forth? Or should she wait? It could be amazing to get out of this neighborhood now. She had left the police lights running. Even now, there could be onlookers outside, or even approaching the car. She had dillied. She had dallied.

Sweeping up her bag, she made one last trip in the house. Charlie's main bedroom looked like it belonged to a high school student. The dark blue bedspread was _Star Wars_ themed, the cabinets adorned with Lego spaceships and little Warhammer figurines. Charlie had a desk, upon which he had blueprints of computer systems, codes for a new virus he had been working on… and a tall, deep mason jar, in which was stored a mountain of cash. At least $700, according to his boasts the week earlier. She had asked him about his funds so that she would know how much she would have once she offed him. She grabbed the whole jar with a massive grin on her face and blew a kiss around the room, stepping out into the hall once more. "Shannon" had never brought him down upon that bed. She had told him that she wanted to save herself for marriage… and tonight had been her marriage. They had become one body, one essence. Nothing could ever have separated them…

She stood over his body for a final time, her feet pressing down on one of his removed eyes. It felt squishy between her toes… She popped her neck, dreamily wondering if she would ever find true love again…

"Charlie, I think we should see other people…" Her voice was distant again, her expression vacant once more. She turned slowly. Very slowly. And slowly did she walk away, stiff as a board, stepping out into the night and slamming the door shut behind her. No one had come to investigate the police car. They must all asleep and dreaming good dreams tonight. Slowly did Abigail clamber into the car, shutting the lights off and looking around into the backseat. Little Anna's body rested gently against the young police officer. They both could have been sleeping peacefully, in a cute position… that is, if Anna was not covered in multiple stab wounds… and if the policeman did not sport bulgy veins filled with the deadliest hemotoxin.

"Don't mind if I turn on the radio, do you?" she asked them, wondering if they would object. Anna raised her head and nodded.

"It's okay, mommy, go ahead," she smiled through a mouthful of blood. The police officer opened his eyes for a moment and nodded as well.

"E-oo on urn it on…" he replied to her through a mouthful of poison.

Abigail grinned. "Thank you." She turned her head away from the bodies that had not actually moved at all (not that she knew this), and turned the radio on full blast. The classical station was her favorite. Violins worked their magic tonight, accompanied by their friends, the Eastern wooden flutes. She stared dead ahead, feeling nothing as she drove away from Charlie's home, with no one but her company of dead to listen to her plans.

"I'm heading for Gotham," she told them. "I have more than $900 now in cash, thanks to Charlie. I have more than enough to get to Gotham and find myself a place to stay… more than enough to begin the next quest." She looked around at them. "Charlie was a quest… wasn't he, little Anna? You helped me so much. You helped me lure him in. Thank you, Anna… that's why I rewarded you. I released your spirit to Mother Earth. Your body will make excellent compost. The Earth will flourish with your contribution. The same goes for you, Officer. You live to serve and protect… Serve Mother Nature. Protect her future. Let your body give her life."

She chuckled, gripping the steering wheel so tightly. She drove for little over half an hour, out into the country fields that swept by the Hudson. Gotham was a fifty-three mile drive from Bludhaven. It would take little over an hour to get there. But first, the bodies….

The field was a fabulous grassland. She had taken a picture here, with little Anna. That picture she had smashed after bringing down Charlie. Shanna had no right to claim Charlie. He belonged to Abigail…or had… Shanna wanted him all to herself, though! The bitch! She wanted to take over this body… but Shanna had lost…. Ivy had won. Abigail…Ivy… flourished where Shanna could not. Stupid Shanna…worthless Shanna…

_"You need to be nice," _Shanna said. _"I don't appreciate hate."_

"Shut up!" Abigail snapped, leaping out of the car and falling into the grass. It felt so alive underhand, so welcoming to Mother Nature. It took her a little bit to haul the bodies out of the car. The young officer, though thin, wore hidden armor under his uniform. She pulled him out by the legs and drug him some way across the field. Then, she retrieved Anna and threw her body onto the officer's. The shovel was in the trunk. The work took over an hour. Far longer that she had wanted it to. A few cars passed by on the country highway beyond her car, but none of them slowed to inquire about anything. No one cared about anything at this hour of the morning. By the time she had dug a hole deep enough to house them both, she was sweating up a storm, out of breath and ragged. She stabbed the shovel down into the officer's belly, impaling him so as to keep her balance. She wanted to fall over. Bury herself with them. Live within the dirty earth. Maybe some day… and maybe she'd drag a victim down to join her… She finally managed to push the corpses into the hole, and with a sigh of relief and a massive grin, she filled the hole back up, the dirt eating away at the two victims. Earth would forget them. Mother Nature would eat them. All was well.

Finishing her job, she stood atop their grave and trampled about in a circle for a few minutes, imaging their anger. She had developed a habit of this quite a bit. Trampling and sometimes even dancing naked upon the graves of her victims at night, the dirt staining her feet with a pleasurable sensation. Desecration, the goddess had taught her on television, was an essential rule of life. She would always live by the goddess's example. She had a recording of the broadcast...the broadcast that had nearly torn a city in two.

Her quest was simple now. She would go to Gotham. She would travel to the institute of Arkham. And she would free the goddess. The sacrifices she had made throughout the year had been done in the name of the goddess, and thus the souls, she knew, had been sent directly _to_ the goddess, to feed her. She was saving the goddess by feeding her. Without sacrifices, the goddess would suffer.

Ten minutes later she was speeding down the road again, now utterly alone. Except for Shanna. Shannah was still there, whispering to her.

_What makes you think you can free the goddess?_ she asked.

Abigail seethed. The goddess Poison Ivy _would_ be free! Her greatest servant, aye her most avid fan, would see to it. The demoness would be free! The demoness _must_ be free!

"I _am_ Poison Ivy," she sighed to herself aloud, kissing her gloves. She fondled her own lips. They were not poisonous. Not yet. She had not yet found the secret to making her lips poisonous. But oh how she wanted to. She wanted the Kiss of Death. How erotic it would be! How empowering! She would equal to the goddess, then! A poisonous kiss…. It was a dream worth killing for. The goddess would know. She would tell Abigail her secrets. She did, however, have the goddess's venom. Lots of vials of the stuff, extracted from the corpses of the goddess's victims. She would experiment on herself, then. Find out how to bond the poison to her own biological lips. She wanted to kill someone with a kiss. She wanted to seduce them, make them feel like she truly loved them, and then see the horror as her kiss destroyed them from the inside out. In the meantime, she would continue her work on creating a lipgloss that would work just as well. She had not yet figured out the secret of ensuring that she would not be endangered by her own weapon. Hell, just to see someone get badly sick from her kiss was enough for now. She wanted to make them vomit, make them gag and wretch. She wanted to be _disgusting_!

Just thinking about it made her sweat. She needed a distraction, otherwise she may very well have to stop for another murder. As much as she wanted to, she had to get to Gotham before sunrise! She flicked on the radio again. A radio show was currently on now, and a special report from the Gotham area was being broadcast.

"…was, less than 48 hours ago, found innocent by reason of insanity. Jones has been transferred to the Karrington Institution for Boys, until his 21st birthday, where he will be transferred to a secure isolation in Arkham. Jones will not be given the death penalty for the murders, but is not expected to be released ever. According to official reports, he mutilated all seven of his female victims during the actual rapes themselves, carving their faces up and singing folk tunes. This was based on a confession given by Jones himself, in the court room…"

Abigail raised her eyebrows. Whoever this Jones guy was… he sounded hot.

"Jones has shown no remorse for his actions, and proudly declared before the entire court, and his grieving parents, that he would add "a couple of Karrington nurses to his plate for dinner." Jones was escorted out of the courtroom by an escort of seven guards… unfortunately, upon reaching the hall, Jones was able to break free of their hold and viciously scarred one of the female escorts, biting half of her nose from her face and devouring the piece he had bitten off…"

Abigail's breath was caught. She placed her hand to her heart. She was lubricating now, hot and wet down there as she listened to the report. This Jones man… he was not just hot: he was _divine_. She turned the radio up louder, still breathing hard, her toes curling in intensity.

"Jones swore verbal allegiance to, in his own words, "all the damn psychopaths this world has to offer, and to the demons who give us our fun," as he was knocked out by the remaining guards…"

That was the final straw. She veered the car left, pelting straight into a nearby yard of a country home. Chickens in the yard screamed and ran for cover as she skid to a halt. She positively flung herself from the car, clicking her wristblades out, and began to run towards the screened in front porch of the great white house before her. Dogs, large Pits, snarled fiercely at her from behind chained in cages. She grinned at the dogs, running at the cages with full speed, the blades of her gloves glinting in the porch light that suddenly went off. The dogs were going mad, monstrously and seemingly trying to destroy the chain link before them to devour her. She leapt upon the ground and took no hesitation in driving the blades through the fence holes, impaling both animals through the skulls. They went down at once, whimpering pathetically as the blades struck through their brains, and now she could hear a voice from the porch.

"Who's there?" It was a woman calling out. Laughing wildly, madly, Abigail leapt to her feet and rocketed towards the porch. She leapt upon the steps and ran right at the screen door. The elderly woman, shotgun in hand, was taken by surprise at her sudden appearance and did not even have time to raise the weapon as Abigail reached the screen door and stabbed right through, catching the woman through the neck. The woman gasped, her eyes going wide, and Abigail mercilessly cut through the screen as she pulled the woman forward against the door and stabbed her repeatedly through the chest. As she did, she closed her eyes in more satisfaction, squeezing her legs together as she came, biting her lip again and producing more blood. It was so satisfying to kill again! It felt so damn good! _YES!_ she screamed in her head. _YES! YES! YES!_

The woman was dead long before Abigail stopped holding and stabbing her. So much blood was splattered across her face and outfit. Her red hair matched it perfectly. Licking the air with her tongue, Abigail released the woman and let her fall onto the porch, screaming hysterically in mad, insane laughter as she plummeted towards the car, more joyous than she had ever been in her life, more ecstatic than she could ever have comprehended.

She felt like she had handled her sexual frustration well.


End file.
